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Monday, June 29, 2015

Obsessed by Coffee

Rebel’s Claw - Obsessed by
Coffee

Obsessed by Coffee

I
wrote Rebel’s Claw, my second Black
Hill Wolves book, while out of work. I think my own negative emotions helped me
dig deep into the character emotions. I’m kind of surprised by what came out.
During that time, I developed the habit of going out at least once a week to a
coffee shop to get a cappuccino fix. I got a coffee gift card for Christmas,
which probably started it all. I also needed to get out of the house and escape
the job search once in a while. The caffeine was a nice buzz too. It must have
inspired me because Carrie, the heroine, gets flustered and spills coffee
whenever Roark nudges too close to her secret.

Roark
Archer’s Lamar Canyon Pack in Yellowstone has been decimated by ranchers and
hunters. Although the Tao pack in Los Lobos, South Dakota, has offered to
assimilate it, he cannot give up his heritage so easily. At least not until he
gets revenge against whoever killed his best friend, Jared, three years ago.

Recluse
Carrie Myers lives on the Wyoming cattle ranch her late father left her. One
fateful night changes her life forever, leaving her questioning her sanity. She
knows what she saw…or does she? Regardless, she’ll do anything to protect the
awful secret that has haunted her for the past three years.

When
fate brings Roark to Carrie’s doorstep, the connection between them is
undeniable. Determined to avoid commitment, they agree to give in to their
unexplainable attraction for one night. Will hatred consume this hell-raising
shifter, or can he learn love and forgiveness in the enemy’s arms?

When his fingers tangled on the waistband of her
panties, her legs trembled and her cleft burned with need. For the first time,
she wished she owned lacy, feminine lingerie instead of boring, practical
underwear.

“These are so sexy,” he whispered as if reading
her mind. “So perfect on you.”

She gasped when his finger dipped under the
white fabric, probing and swirling over swollen flesh. Her head thrashed on the
pillow. Surely, she didn’t deserve such pleasure. With each caress, he promised
even more. Completely disconnected from reality, she hovered over an abyss.

Don’t let
me go.

She craved him every night, to make her forget
everything causing her pain. With an instinct of their own, her hips danced as
sinuously as a snake’s. His finger slipped inside, thrusting deep. If her
pleasure was electricity, he’d light her up for miles.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the
rock-hard bulge in his jeans. She shied away when he unzipped himself, but he
pressed his bare cock into her palm. Lord, she’d never felt anything so hot. So
alive. A trail of juice seeped from her core.

“Are you still sure you want to do this?” he
whispered in her ear.

Their chests bucked and swelled against each
other from their hard breathing. She felt as if she’d run the length of the
ranch a hundred times.

“Y-yes, Roark.”

“Then grab my wallet off the nightstand since
you’re closer to it.”

Her body tensed. He didn’t plan to pay her like
a prostitute, did he? Daddy definitely wouldn’t approve. He wouldn’t look
kindly on a one-night stand, either.

“There’s a condom in it,” he added.

When she twisted away from his hot skin, the
contrast of the cool air caused her to shiver. Clumsier than ever, she dropped
the wallet on the bed. It opened, revealing several pictures in plastic
sleeves. She couldn’t resist flipping through them. Did he have a girlfriend?
Hopefully not a wife. Hopping cow patties. She hadn’t even thought to ask about
that.

Too late to back out now.

The people were all ages and shared a similar
look to him, so she assumed they were family. She could hardly concentrate,
with him stroking her back and grinding his wonderful hardness against her
buttocks.

“You’re taking too damn long,” he muttered against
her hair. “I’m about to take you, condom or not.”

“H-hold on a second,” she replied.

When she spotted the last picture, the heat in
her body turned to ice. She blinked, hoping she’d seen it wrong, but the image
only became clearer. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she stared at the face
of a reddish-haired man with a beard. Nausea twisted her gut while a lone
coyote howled in the distance. The remembered sensation of mud and blisters
floated across her hands….

Oh, dear Lord. It was him! The face of the
creature she’d killed.

Coming Soon

Deeper Than Perfect - 1970s time-travel

Afton
Locke is a USA Today Bestselling Author who prefers romantic fantasies to
everyday reality. Fantasies take her to different times, races, places, and beyond.
She lives with her husband, dog, several unnamed dust bunnies, and a black cat
that can be scary or cuddly, depending on the current book. When she’s not
writing, Afton enjoys hiking, cooking, crafts, and reading.